What Might Have Been
by Insomniac By Choice
Summary: A fairly short story set a year after the original Metroid, but not in the same universe. A brief exploration of how even great tragedies can produce great things, and how the opposite is also true. Originally published December 2005.


The girl looked up into the night sky and sighed, a deep and empty sound no doubt obscured by the sea of hushed voices murmuring around her. Though pretty, she was plain in her features and dress — by all appearances, a normal girl in the midst of normal folk. She was just another face in the crowd, another breath joining the rest and her sigh was not important or distinct enough to be heard by anyone. Her feelings of regret tinged with urgency were likely echoed by many if not all in the crowd, but Samus Aran was sure she was the only one feeling it this intensely. They were all leaving their homes; most were like her and had known no other. They were all fleeing to escape the grasp of the devil they knew and falling into the embrace of one they did not. But Samus had a future ahead of her, potential that was untapped and a fate that was yet unwritten. She had been born to do great things. And it was all because of the pinprick above her head.

Zebes.

She had seen pictures of the planet before in school, detailed full-dimensional videos that explored every rock and crevice on its surface, but right now it was just a dim light in the sky, shining steadily in the middle of an incomprehensible number of blinking stars. They were supposed to be much bigger than planets, but for some reason that ugly little planet was more reliable than any of them. No matter how long or how many times Samus stared at it, she would always be the first to blink.

"Now boarding first-class passengers for launch," a garbled voice announced from a box on a nearby wall. "Only passengers with codes 1A through 10C are allowed entrance at this time. Anyone attempting to board illegally or with the wrong group will be severely reprimanded."

Someone bumped Samus, moving toward the gate, but disappeared back into the crowd before she could identify who it was. Didn't matter, she supposed.

She slipped her pass out of the edge of her pocket and glanced at the code, then quickly dropped it back into her pants. Just as she'd known before she'd checked, it said "14J" so she had a while yet, but she wanted to be sure she didn't miss her turn or get with the wrong group. The voice's warning had been no idle threat. A tall, barbed fence surrounded the launch site and building, and between the fence and building were a handful of soldiers in tall powered exoskeletons, brandishing rifles prominently. Anyone trying to sneak or force their way on to the ship would have to go through them. She was just a young woman, but with as many desperate people wanting off the planet as there were right now, she wouldn't get much leniency because of it.

Zebes.

How could one little planet so far away possibly affect her life so much? It just hung there, waiting with patient inaction for something to happen. For Samus on K-2L, nothing ever would, at least nothing good. There was nothing for her here, nothing but drudgery and eventually death. She had to get out of here and soon.

"Why are you leaving, Samus?" her mother had said, crying. "I know it's not perfect but as long as we have family, we can get though it together."

Samus hadn't known what to say, but her father had understood. He hadn't been happy, but he'd understood. She needed to make her own way, blaze her own trail and she couldn't do that here. She might come back some day but she didn't have a future on K-2L; her future was in the stars.

"Now boarding second-class passengers, 1D through 20H," the garbled voice announced before repeating its earlier warning. _Was the voice human or automatic?_ Samus wondered.

Artificial or not, apparently someone hadn't listened to it, because a soldier in a powered exoskeleton picked up a man by his collar and slammed him down on the ground. The crowd became quiet as the soldier lifted the man again. This time they were able to hear the stomach-turning crunch of the impact. The soldier picked the man up a third time but seemed to conclude that that was enough. The man hung completely limp and didn't give any hint of consciousness as he was flung back over the top of the fence and landed in an empty area beside the crowd. No one moved to check on him, afraid they would lose their spot or miss their call. He didn't move, either.

Samus hated the Federation. They had been around her all of her life, but it wasn't until recently that they had begun to truly make their presence felt. At first they had just started sending more troops, expanding the launch areas and building more barracks. But the campaign had dragged on, and the Federation had stopped pretending it cared about the citizens on this colony. They commandeered vehicles, buildings, streets, homes – whatever they needed whenever they needed it. They hadn't started an official draft yet, but if you weren't in the military, your work served the military, which was just as bad. K-2L was a military outpost, and day and night ships launched and landed –- their destination and origin always the same.

Zebes.

They said it was to protect K-2L and the Federation itself from the Space Pirates, but Samus knew they were lying, at least about K-2L. For as long as she could remember, pirates had been in this area of the galaxy and not once had they ever attacked her colony. Maybe they raided elsewhere and maybe they'd done some horrible things to other people, but they'd never harmed Samus or her family –- more than she could say for the Federation. Now the Federation said the Pirates had a new weapon of massive destruction, but Samus didn't buy it. Where was the proof? The Feds said the Pirates had stolen some new alien lifeform off transport ship, but what good was their word? They had been looking for an excuse to go to war with the Pirates for a long time, everyone knew it. They'd probably just made it all up to get public support. It hadn't worked, at least not here. Kaytooellians could see past the propaganda. How were organisms a threat to galactic society in the age of space cannons and power bombs? Besides, Kaytoos traded with Pirates, now and again, and knew them not to be a bad lot. They were trying to make their way in the galaxy, same as everyone else. The Federation was just a bully.

"Now boarding coach passengers, 1J through 30M. The remaining coach passengers will board after they're finished. Friends and family members seeing passengers off will have five minutes to get home before regular curfew takes effect." This time the box didn't bother to warn them about trying to get on without passes; the body on the ground nearby did a good enough job of that.

Samus began pushing forward to get to the gates. She bumped into some people but kept moving. She was nervous — afraid, but excited. This was her first time to go anywhere and she was going by herself. She was in charge of her own fate.

She got to a point where a line had formed and stopped, taking steps every so often as the person ahead of her did. Doubt was creeping into her mind at the last instant and she couldn't remove it completely. She thought about the life that might have been, and she felt… she didn't know what. Did she really prefer what she was going to do to what she could have had? To what she could _still_ have? Boring but comfortable. Now she could do almost anything, but she didn't know what would actually become of her. Maybe it wouldn't be comfortable. Maybe it would be suffering. Suffering was supposed to build character, but Samus had never truly suffered. Maybe she would break under it now.

No. No, she wouldn't because she was a stronger person than that and certain comforts weren't a match for uncertain greatness. Greatness was worth paying any price.

"Mam, present your pass or leave the premises."

Samus was startled by the mechanical voice and looked up to see a soldier in an exoskeleton inching toward her. She quickly reached into her pocket and found her boarding pass, but as she did, her finger slid into the other reason she was leaving. She pulled her hand out of her pocket slowly and looked at the ring, unable to take her eyes off of the simple gold band on her finger. Mark.

"OK mam, I see it. You can move along now."

Numbly she nodded and did.

Oh Mark.

She'd dated him through tertiary school off and on, become an official couple after they'd graduated. It wasn't serious, but it might have been. And then several nights ago he had gone and done something unforgivably stupid: he'd asked her to marry him. She might have said yes, too, if he hadn't kept talking.

"And then you can use the money I'll earn from the Infantry to take care of yourself until I get back," he'd said, eagerly.

The shock from the announcement had quickly worn off. She was enraged that he'd signed up for the Infantry, much less that he hadn't even discussed it with her beforehand.

"If I told you, I figured you'd be mad," he pleaded.

He was damn right she'd be mad. She was absolutely livid. Fraternizing with them was traitorous, joining up was — she didn't know what it was.

"Sam."

No, he couldn't use that name for her, not right now.

"Sam, I love you, baby. I do. There's nothing for us here, but we can't make it out there on our own without money. I'm just doing one tour, then I'll be back and we can use the money you've saved up to go somewhere else. Or just move away from all the cities and Federals and start our own place. That sounds worth a little time apart, doesn't it? Or even me being a traitorous so-and-so for a little while?"

No, that wasn't worth it. Nothing was worth that. And besides, there was no guarantee he'd be coming back. Zebes had turned into a meat grinder. The Feds kept throwing more men at the Space Pirates fortresses but no real progress was being made. And for what? For some Metrims?

"Metroids, baby. They're called Metroids."

Whatever. They weren't worth his life.

"Some things are. Maybe the Pirates have never come here, but they might one day."

A lot of things _might_ happen.

"A lot of things _have_ happened. To other people. In other places. That doesn't give us a right to ignore them just because we don't know any of them personally."

Yes it did. The Federation was a kettle just as black as the Pirates. It was all politics and –-

"Damn it, I don't care about politics! This isn't about the Federation or Zebes or what might happen, it's about us!" Mark shouted, and dropped to his knee again. "Samus, will you be my wife or not?"

Not. And politics _was_ about them. There wasn't room in his bed for her if he was already whoring himself to the Federation.

"Sam…"

As she'd already said, he didn't have any right to call her that anymore and besides, they should both be getting home. It was almost curfew.

Mark had been left, kneeling there on the sidewalk, and the next morning she'd bought her ticket off the colony. They had both been around for the next several days but neither one had made any effort to see the other. She'd never made an effort to see him, Samus corrected. He might have, but she hadn't. Why would she want to see him anyway?

He'd left yesterday with the rest of the fresh recruits. They'd go to one of the moons in the system and train for a month, then get dropped down on Zebes to try to succeed where tens of thousands of their predecessors had failed. He might have already died in boot camp. Samus heard that happened all the time.

As she climbed into the spaceship and strapped herself in to her seat, she wondered why she'd kept the ring. She didn't want it. She wouldn't ever see him again, and wouldn't want to remember what might have been, anyway. What could be worse than being married to a Federation soldier on an occupied planet? She had her own future to take care of and his was his own.

When the ship finally blasted off, there were screams and sobbing and tears, and Samus did her share, but this was considered normal for first time passengers. The biological reaction to doing something that didn't feel natural. The roar of the ship hid this for them, anyway. Once they were out of the atmosphere and in space, it grew silent again, and, nervous conversation returned, filling up the coach section with pleasant idle chatter.

Samus looked out the window into space and said a prayer, deep and empty, no doubt obscured by the sea of hushed voices murmuring around her.


End file.
